The Best of All Possible Worlds
by clerical medical
Summary: You know the drill: Ancient tech goes wrong, but it goes more wrong for Sheppard than for anyone else...
1. Chapter 1

**The best of all possible worlds**

Summary: You know the drill by now: ancient tech goes wrong, but it goes more wrong for Sheppard than for everyone else.

Author note: set early in series 4 so potential spoilers up to then, but particularly 'McKay and Mrs Miller' (series 3). There's no Lt Ford, but we do have Ronon; there's no Carson Beckett (sorry!) so the CMO is Jennifer Keller, and the Expedition leader is Lt Col Samantha Carter.

Warning: it's another present tense story – for some reason I seem to find them easier to write. If you don't like present tense, you probably won't like this. Chapters are also likely to be on the short side. I'm not so good at long stuff.

Not sure where this bizarre idea came from, but it wouldn't leave me alone til I wrote it down. What I'd really love is for one of my favourite fanfic writers to take the basic idea (which I find intriguing) and write a better story around it!

CHAPTER 1

"Well, at least this time we don't have to trek through miles of identical countryside to play 'hunt the Ancient tech'," comments Dr Rodney McKay, as the stargate shuts down behind him.

The MALP had shown them that the stargate on MX956K was – unusually in the Pegasus Galaxy - within a building of some sort. The Ancient database had it listed as a research outpost, but with no detail "as usual" McKay had complained. This alone made it worth checking out, albeit with a hefty dose of caution.

Sheppard and Teyla's P90s are able to provide some illumination once the light from the event horizon has disappeared, while Rodney focuses on the LSD. Only their four life signs show up; it seems the research station is as deserted as the MALP had promised.

"Alright people," drawls Sheppard, once he's glanced at the LSD, "this place looks structurally sound, and we seem to be the only ones here, but you know the drill: don't touch anything if you don't know what it is, and keep your eyes peeled."

While Sheppard, Teyla and Ronon continue to sweep their meagre lights over the walls, Rodney slips the LSD into a pocket of his tac vest, and swings his backpack round to reach in and retrieve his trusty tablet and a mess of cabling.

"I'm not reading much in the way of power, here, Colonel," he begins, feeling underneath the nearest panel for an access point, "But let's see if we can get the lights on and find out what exactly the Ancients were doing here."

"Okay, but be careful," comes the reply. "Do you need me to initialise anything yet?" the Colonel offers, coming to stand alongside McKay as he connects up his own equipment to the Ancient consoles and starts taking readings.

"Try that one," waves the scientist, without looking up, and Sheppard's gut does its usual twist as he reaches out his hand. He's been on the receiving end of a few too many 'interesting' effects of long-dormant ancient experiments, but as the strongest ATA-gene carrier in the Atlantis expedition, it is something of an occupational hazard.

"You sure?" he queries, careful not to let his trepidation show.

"Yes, yes," mutters McKay impatiently. "There's not enough power running through it to do you any harm."

Sheppard raises his eyebrows, but says nothing, instead checking that his P90 is set to 'safety' and then lowering it to place the palm of his left hand on the panel that McKay had indicated.

A few lights half-heartedly flicker, and then glow steadily, and McKay makes a non-committal noise, stabbing at his tablet with a frown.

"So?" prompts Sheppard after a few moments. "You got any idea yet about what this place is?"

"Give me a minute…"

Sheppard lifts his hand slightly from the panel, and when the lights stay on, he rests his clasped hands on the top of his P90 where it hangs from his vest, and bends to examine the rest of the console. Layers of dust cover the panels, but something McKay is doing is having an effect, because a bank of screens suddenly flickers to life, and a low frequency humming filters through the stale air.

"Ha!" exclaims the scientist, standing straight.

"Is that a good 'ha!' or a bad 'ha', McKay?" questions Sheppard, just a hint of edge to his voice.

"It's an 'I think I know what they were researching here' kind of 'ha!'" snaps Rodney, "but I need more time to download all the information here, and some of it's pretty badly corrupted. Actually Colonel, could you put your hand back on there for a minute, it was better when you were there."

Sheppard shrugs, and palms the panel again.

"Hey, Ronon, this might take a while. Do you and Teyla want to scout out the rest of the complex, see if there's anything to see?" Sheppard tosses Ronan his flashlight – neither he nor Teyla would be able to make the Ancient lighting work. Ronon catches the flashlight with a grunted acknowledgement.

"We will make radio contact if we find anything, Colonel," Teyla assures him.

"And every 10 minutes even if you don't," reminds Sheppard as they head towards the one open doorway and dark corridor beyond.

Sheppard leans back against the console, trying not so huff at having to stick around with his hand on a clapped out piece of lab equipment instead of where he feels he should be. Not for the first time he reminds himself that he is only here in the Pegasus galaxy because of his ATA gene - without it he'd still be flying choppers in Antarctica.

An hour later, Ronan and Teyla have returned empty handed – the remainder of the research station contains nothing of interest, as far as they can tell – and Sheppard's arm is aching from standing in the same position. He is also bored. Rodney has spent the time muttering to himself, and when the Colonel had tried asking him for an update, the scientist had been characteristically dismissive.

Sheppard shifts position again, and whiles away a minute trying to unwrap a power bar one-handed, and then another minute trying to brush the crumbs off the console without Rodney noticing.

"Dr McKay," Teyla begins, "Have you been able to determine what this facility was used for?" It is her best diplomatic voice, but she is clearly bored as well. Ronon is equally so, but is making no attempt to hide it. He is squatting on the floor in one corner, using one of his knives to shave away part of the handle of another – presumably to balance it better for throwing.

"Actually, I think I have," Rodney answers, looking pleased with himself. "I've just finished downloading all the data, so I can look at it again back in my own lab, but I think that they were doing here something like we tried back in Atlantis with the – er – unfortunate side effects – anyway, it looks like they were working on ways of generating power using a bridge between alternate realities to filter off exotic particles."

"It didn't go so well when we tried that, McKay," Sheppard reminds him.

"Wasn't that when you almost destroyed a parallel universe?" Teyla offers, helpfully.

"Yeah," says Ronon. "And your double turned up and annoyed the hell out of us."

"And we depleted a whole ZPM," adds Sheppard.

"Yes, well," Rodney snaps, "this is the ancients we're talking about. There's nothing about an attempt to generate power this way in the Ancient database that we can access back on Atlantis, but if they got it working here? Maybe it was just too late for them to be able to use the extra power in the fight against the Wraith?"

"Or maybe," warns Sheppard, "they realised it was a really bad idea and shut it the hell down before it destroyed a whole universe?"

"I need to go back to my own lab and analyse the data," says Rodney. "If their research shows they managed it better than we did, which I doubt, then we can come back here and try to resurrect some of this equipment."

"That mean we can go home?" asks Ronon bluntly, springing to his feet with surprising grace for a man of his size.

At Rodney's nod, Sheppard scrunches the wrapper of his powerbar into a ball and stuffs it back into his tac vest, then reaches over to punch the Atlantis address into the DHD, and transmits his IDC, his other hand still on the console.

Ronon and Teyla area already standing before the gate, and Rodney is most of the way through disconnecting his tablet when he pulls one of the connectors a little too suddenly, and his elbow smacks hard into Sheppard's wrist so that the Colonel not only loses contact with panel he'd been touching for the last hour, but brushes another two.

There's s shower of sparks, and all of a sudden the low-level hum becomes a steadily rising whine, and the whole complex begins to shudder beneath their feet.

"Crap!" mutters Sheppard. With a glance down at the GDO to check the shield status, Sheppard waves everyone through. "We're clear," he shouts over the din. "Get through the gate, and have them raise the shield once I'm through!"

Teyla and Ronon don't need telling twice. Sheppard grabs McKay by the upper arm, and shoves him through the gate, then bends to swipe their two packs and risk one last glance round.

He shouldn't have taken that last second.

The blast knocks the air from his lungs, and tosses him through the gate along with the disintegrated remains of half the lab.


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

"Unscheduled offworld activation!" calls the gate tech, as the chevrons light and the gate springs to life. It is standard protocol to raise the shield, but only a moment later Colonel Carter gives the command to lower it: it's Colonel Sheppard's IDC.

"They're early," comments Carter in surprise, as Ronon and Teyla spill out of the gate. Teyla's eyes find Carter's.

"Stand by the raise the shield, Colonel."

Rodney is next out of the event horizon, looking as if he's fallen through, and Ronon quickly drags him out of the way. It's not a moment too soon.

The gateroom trembles as Sheppard flies out of the event horizon in a cloud of smoke and hail of debris. To his credit, the gate tech keeps his head and is already calling for a medical team.

The Colonel bounces and skids across the gateroom floor, finally lying sprawled at the foot of the stairs, covered in dust and surrounded by chunks of smoking twisted metal. Teyla is first to reach him, digging her fingers under his collar to check for a pulse and sitting back in relief when she feels the steady thrum under the skin.

The medical team aren't far behind, and she scoots back to give them room. The abrasions on the Colonel's face had looked minor, but serious injuries are not always visible. The air is thick with smoke and dust, but dealing with chaos is what the Atlantis team do on an almost daily basis, and they're good at it.

o0o

Awareness returns with noise. Confusing, blurring, senseless noise. His ears are ringing, and somewhere in the background there are muffled shouts. Panicking, his eyes snap open, and a blurred sea of faces swims into view. He tries to take a breath, but it feels like he's breathing dust, and he coughs and gags and can't seem to stop, and then the pain really hits, every cough like a knife in the chest.

Dimly he feels something cool and hard pressed to his face, and a strong hand supporting his head, but it is still taking all his concentration to try and draw enough air in. Through the coppery tang in his mouth he can taste the bottled oxygen, and he's grateful for it. His eyes slide shut, and he is lost again in a cacophony of blurred sounds.

More hands support him, feeling down his neck and back, and legs and arms, probing his ribs, and he doesn't know if his growl of pain is aloud or just in his head. Then finally, after an uncomfortable and disorientating rearrangement of his limbs, be finds himself being helped to sit up, and breathing becomes suddenly and mercifully easier.

He risks opening his eyes again, and this time the anxious and slightly blurred face of Dr Jennifer Keller greets him.

She mouths something at him, but he can't hear anything above the relentless ringing. He shakes his head, but it's a mistake. The nausea hits him like an express train and he just manages to get one flailing hand to rip the oxygen mask away so that he can roll sideways and vomit up the powerbar he'd eaten earlier. Red hot agony flares again in his chest and his eyes scrunch closed. Fortunately, a helping hand raises the oxygen mask back to his face, because he doesn't think he has the strength to lift his own hand. Not even when some idiot starts shining bright lights in his eyes and asks him inane questions about what his name is and what day it is. He answers succinctly to make them go away, but although his words are muffled by the mask, they're good enough.

o0o

Jennifer Keller wants to let her patient get his bearings before carting him off to the infirmary. He seems a little disorientated – to be fair, he's just been blown up - but thankfully there's no evidence of serious head injury: he didn't like the penlight much, but his pupils were equal and reactive, and he was quite clear on his name, rank, serial number and the date. Remarkably, his eardrums aren't even perforated, though she imagines that he can't make out much sound at the moment. She watches him breathe, holding himself tensely against one of her orderlies. His lungs now seem clearer, which is a relief – no red flecks in the oxygen mask from the coughing, which would be a warning sign of blast lung. But his breaths are shallow and almost too careful; an initial palpation indicates no broken ribs, but she's willing to bet that there are several cracked.

But on the plus side, his blood pressure looks OK, and there are only small fragments of shrapnel to remove, and none of them look deeply embedded or in places that could cause complications. Once he's safely in the infirmary she'll give him some of what her patients call the 'good drugs' and have him good as new in no time. Pursing her lips, she realises that he's been lucky. Very lucky. Considering the debris littering the gate room and the speed with which he was ejected from the stargate, he could easily have been killed, instead of suffering what are relatively minor injuries. The gurney stands empty, but Jennifer is happy that the Colonel is in no immediate danger, and as he's probably more comfortable sitting up than he will be lying down, she's content to leave him where he is for a moment. With a nod at the attending nurse, Keller stands and makes her way to Colonel Carter to report on Sheppard's condition.

Carter sees the doctor approach out of the corner of her eye, but a slightly hysterical chief science officer is still trying to explain what the hell went wrong with what should have been a cakewalk exploratory mission and how the military commander ended up flying across the gateroom, and one of the gate techs has started shouting something, too. Carter looks torn, but turns upwards to the gate tech, holding out a 'wait' sign to the others vying for her attention.

"It won't shut down, Ma'am, and I can't engage the shield."

"What?" In an instant, Carter is running back up the steps, with Rodney hauling himself after her. Jennifer turns to follow, not knowing what else to do, when there's a squelch of re-materialisation behind her, and something solid and fast moving slams into her back, knocking her to the ground, and sending her into a dizzying heap of tangled limbs, only yards from where Colonel Sheppard is now struggling to stand. She's aware of a pitter patter of falling debris, and there's more choking dust.

Stunned, she tries to push herself up, but there's something heavy lying across her, and she panics, breathing hard and scrabbling at whatever it is with frantic hands.

One of the military contingent reaches her first, and puts a strong hand behind her shoulder, and another on the side of her face, getting her to look at him. She can't remember his name, then laughs hysterically, breathlessly, when she realises it's there on his uniform. He's telling her to calm down, and not to move, and then she finally gets a good look at the object that's pinning her down. It's a body, face down, and it's dressed in the grey and black uniform of Atlantis. She can't see the face, just dark hair. And a large piece of twisted shrapnel embedded in the neck.

Professionalism takes over. Ignoring the stinging ache in her ribs and head, sore from when she landed, and ignoring the rest of the gateroom, Jennifer reaches across, careful not to touch the shrapnel, and searches with her fingertips for a pulse. There's the tiniest of flutters beneath skin that's slick with fresh blood. She shouts to the nearest corpsmen to hold the body steady while she eases herself out from underneath. There's no time to check properly for spinal injuries, because he's going to bleed out in minutes if she doesn't act now.

She's concentrating on keeping the spine aligned as she and the marines roll the body onto its back, so she doesn't see their expressions when they, along with her, get a proper look at the face. It's unmistakably Lt Colonel John Sheppard.

o0o

"What the hell's going on?" Colonel Carter's voice cuts through the chaos.

Jennifer risks a quick glance up, and for a moment as she meets Carter's eye, wondering what to say, she can see in her peripheral vision the two John Sheppards – the first one, leaning on Ronon but very much upright, with an oxygen mask dangling redundant at his side, and the second one, whose life is literally spilling out all over the gateroom floor. Someone's handing her a wad of something to pack the neck wound, and she's no choice but to focus on the life that's in her hands. Her fingers slip on the skin and on the shrapnel, but her heart sinks as the blood flow clearly slows – and not for the right reasons. There's a heart-wrenching moment when the eyes flicker half-open, and they're full of fear and pain, and then they're glassy and unseeing, and the flow of blood becomes just a trickle, and she knows it's all over. In all honesty, it was over the moment the shrapnel sliced through the carotid artery.

Jennifer deliberately and gently removes her hands from her patient, and gives a little shake of her head.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, looking anywhere but at the very much alive Colonel Sheppard who's now standing only feet from her. She doesn't want to see the expression on his face.

There's a full second of stunned silence, and then it's broken by McKay, with a strangled "Oh God," and then it's as if someone's pressed the button to re-start the chaos.


	3. Chapter 3

CHAPTER 3

Sheppard can't take his eyes off the bloody corpse on the gateroom floor. His vision tunnels in, and he can only see a puddle of red, and his own dead face staring back at him. It's probably the ringing in his ears that stops him hearing Ronon's urgent "Sheppard!" and he's only dimly aware that the Satedan has tightened his hold. Perhaps he's even stopped breathing, because someone's trying to press the oxygen mask back against his face. Absently, he brushes it away, and the moment of morbid focus is gone.

Suddenly there's movement everywhere. Rodney's running back up the stairs (when did he come down, anyway?) and there's a whole bunch of Marines – the gateroom duty security detail - who don't know what to do with themselves. Some of them have their P90s trained on the event horizon, one or two have theirs pointed irrelevantly at the dead duplicate on the floor. Sheppard doesn't know what he'd do in their place, but when he finds himself led over to sit on the gurney, and two of the security detail come with him, he doesn't object.

o0o

"What the hell is going on?" Carter repeats, as she pores over the stargate status screen, and Rodney finally remembers the tablet he's been clutching. Hastily plugging it into the socket on the underside of the console, he brings up the data he'd salvaged from the device at the research station.

"Here," he says, swallowing hard, and passing her the tablet. He knows she's read the full report from when he tried the matter bridge, he knows she's aware of how catastrophically it went wrong. But even then, the effects weren't quite as ….graphic as this.

"Rodney, am I reading this right?" she asks, sharply. "If this is seriously what that research station was looking at, and if they'd got half as far in reality as this data suggests, then we could be in big trouble here."

They both glance up at the gate, and McKay tries again to shut it down, but there's no change to the shimmering event horizon. He tries the shield, too, even knowing that the gate tech's already done that. Again, nothing.

Rodney should be confident that between the two of them they can fix this, but at the moment all his mind's eye will let him see is the dead Sheppard flying through the gate. He keeps looking over the balcony at the figure sitting on the gurney as if to reassure himself that the 'real' Sheppard is still there. He's not surprised to find Carter doing the same.

"OK," he begins, trying to gather up shreds of organised thought, "we know that at least part of the lab was destroyed, or seriously damaged in the explosion, but something over there is still working or else we wouldn't have experienced the ….um… duplication phenomenon just now."

"The body that came through the gate must have come from an alternate reality," Carter confirmed.

"Yes, but not a pre-existing one, at least I hope not," replied Rodney. "Think about it. The moment that the device activated and overloaded, causing the explosion, there was a 50 per cent chance that Sheppard would survive, and a 50 per cent chance that he'd be killed. Two possible outcomes, so two parallel realities, ours and the other one."

"Well, that's better than the possibility that we've somehow opened up a bridge again between two pre-existing universes," Carter sighed. "I mean, this is bad, but if the explosion is the point of divergence then the situation's a little more contained."

Carter drew on her own memories of parallel realities. The greater the divergence between to planes, then the greater the likelihood that the 'visitor' from one reality to another would start to degrade at a cellular level when confronted by their double. Not that that would be an issue here, she reminds herself, as the duplicate is already dead.

Dead. She doesn't even want to think about that. She'd rather carry on in denial of the fact that the dead Sheppard is just as real as the living one.

As if echoing her thoughts, McKay continues, "The Sheppard that came through first and survived is obviously the one that belongs in our universe –"

"Obviously?" Carter queried, watching McKay's uncomfortable swallow at the alternative. They both allow themselves another reassuring glace over the balcony.

"Yes," Rodney decided. "Has to be."

"But, why the time delay?" Carter presses. "The gate log shows a lapse of almost 8 minutes between the two. What was going on for those 8 minutes if the point of divergence had already happened at the moment of the explosion?"

"And then there's the even bigger question of why the second Sheppard ended up coming through_ our_ stargate, not the one in _his_ universe," Rodney adds.

"Perhaps the device somehow fused with stargate at moment of overload?" suggests Zelenka – Carter and Rodney hadn't even noticed him there.

"Look, here," the engineer manoeuvers between them to point at the status screen. "This is moment of explosion, and _there_ is power surge. Frequency pattern is similar with matter bridge disaster here in Atlantis."

"You're right, Radek," Carter confirms, with a frustrated sigh.

"And why will stargate not disengage?" adds Radek.

Their thoughts are interrupted by the unmistakeable sound of something – or someone – rematerializing, and they know even before the blurred dark shape hits the bottom step of the gateroom that it's another body.

Rodney opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out, and instead he finds himself running down the stairs after Carter.

o0o

"Sir, you don't want to see this," insists Major Lorne, trying to shield Sheppard from the bundle of grey-and-black-clad flesh at the foot of the stairs. Sheppard can see Jennifer bending over the figure, and he doesn't need to be able to see the face to know that it's another duplicate of himself.

Sheppard slides off the gurney and winces as his midsection complains at standing upright, but he ignores the pain in his ribs, leaning only slightly on Ronon as he waves his XO off and makes his way over to the prone figure.

Lorne is probably right. He doesn't need to see this. But he also can't _not_ look. The ringing in his ears and way the room is still gently spinning make this almost dream-like, and he needs to confront the reality of it, so that he can begin to take charge of his men (the gateroom security detail still don't look like they know quite what to do) and feel like he is actually present and functionning. Otherwise he's no better than the dead versions of himself.

He tries to stay calm as he takes in the open unseeing eyes, and the obviously fatal head wound.

All of this is so very wrong in so many ways, that he needs desperately to grasp some control. So he forces himself to squat down next to Keller. She's shaking, and he doesn't blame her. She still counts as new here, and this would freak anyone out. He puts a hand on her shoulder, and she flinches, almost overbalancing both of them.

"Oh God, sorry Colonel," she offers, quietly. "It's…. I mean, there's nothing I can do. I don't know whether this was the explosion, or just now when …he… hit the step, but….. I'm sorry."

He doesn't need his hearing to get the gist of what she's said. "Not your fault, Doc," he murmurs, and forces himself to give one more good look at the body, before accepting Ronon's helping hand and standing up.

Carter's there. She looks ill. Rodney, beside her, looks worse. Sheppard is aware that he probably isn't the picture of health right now either.

"Colonel… John…" begins Carter, "we thought we knew what was going on but this second duplicate…."

"There must be some kind of loop effect…" Rodney starts, but Sheppard has heard enough. It's time to take a bit of control back.

"Major Lorne," he says, turning to find his XO right behind him. "I want men stationed either side of the gate, but not in direct line with it – maybe 6 yards or so this way." He gestures at the positions he's described, and pauses for breath, closing his eyes to manage the sharp pain in his ribs. "No P90s, they're there to play catch in case this happens again, so we can avoid …this," he continues, gesturing without looking at the body on the floor.

"Yes sir," Lorne agrees readily. He's relieved that he can give the men a task, and angry with himself for not thinking of it.

"And Major?" Carter adds, "Can we clear the gateroom of everyone else, save the duty security detail? We don't know if this will happen again, but if it does there may well be more shrapnel coming through the gate, and we don't want any further casualties."

"Ma'am," Lorne nods, and quickly sees to his orders.

"Colonel, that means you too," Carter adds to Sheppard, and raises an eyebrow at the tall Satedan who has become Sheppard's shadow.

As Sheppard and Ronon make their way off the main floor, and Carter runs back up the steps to the command centre where Rodney is already waiting, a team of medical orderlies are already gathering the two bodies on to waiting trolleys and covering them with sheets. Everyone's glad when they don't have to see the faces anymore.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER 4

In the gateroom there's a tense sort of quiet. Not silence: the event horizon laps against the stargate, there's the usual control room hums and clicks and beeps, the squeak of leather boots as the marines on security detail adjust their positions, and frantic talking in low voices, mostly coming from Zelenka, McKay and Carter.

Sheppard's battered eardrums can't hear most of this, but he can see it. He's has allowed himself to sit down, Ronon standing guard beside him, and although he'is dividing his attention between the trio of scientists arguing upstairs and the innocent-looking puddle of the gate, out of the corner of his eye he sees Dr Keller making a beeline for him. At some point in the last minute she's managed to shed the blood-covered gloves and is pulling on a fresh pair. Small mercies.

She makes eye contact, aware of the Colonel's hearing difficulty, and makes a valiant effort at smiling as she gestures helpfully at the stethoscope around her neck.

Sheppard nods, resigned to the fact that Dr Keller's come to check up on him. He's aware that he's holding himself tensely, partly due to the pain in his ribs, and partly because it's a way of keeping it all together. Gently, Keller helps him strip off his outer jacket, noting the wince at the change of position. She checks breathing and heart rate, and Sheppard lets her get on with it, focusing still on the gate. He feels the squeeze on his upper arm as she checks his blood pressure, and glances down as the doctor shows him the numbers – his pressure is a little high, but he suspects he has that in common with everyone here.

Sheppard knows the standard neuro checks by heart. He tries not to flinch as the light from the penlight hits his retinas, and successfully follows Keller's finger with his eyes. He bites his lip against the sting as she individually checks the cuts and scratches left by the flying shrapnel, but he knows that it's not too bad. He grinds his teeth as she gently palpates down one side of his chest and then the other, sucking in a painful breath at one point. He must have closed his eyes, because she taps him lightly on the side of the face to tell him she's finished.

"Colonel, we really need to get you to the infirmary to treat your injuries," she tries, gesturing towards the still-empty gurney, and offering him a helping hand.

"Doc, I'm not leaving here til this is resolved," Sheppard replies. "There's nothing wrong with me that can't wait, is there?"

Keller purses her lips. She hadn't expected him to come quietly, to be honest, and if she was in his place she wouldn't want to be out of the loop about what was happening. And, since she herself is fully intending to stay in the gateroom in case of more casualties, she realises she's going to find it difficult to persuade the Colonel to leave.

"You should be fine," she replies, reluctantly. "But you stay here, no moving around. And you call me if you feel worse, or if you experience any new symptoms."

"Thanks," says Sheppard, simply, and goes on watching the gate and the science team.

o0o

Keller hesitates to disturb Colonel Carter, Rodney and Radek, but she thinks they'll want to know how 'their' Sheppard is doing, and she herself wants to know what to expect next – if they've worked it out. She climbs the steps and hovers uncertainly a yard or two back from where they're arguing around the gate status console.

One of the gate techs moves to stand with her, and offers a weak half-smile of greeting.

"Do you know what they think is happening?" Keller asks.

"It's out of my league," admits the gate tech. "Last I heard Dr McKay was talking about parallel realities: how the ancient device at the other end of the wormhole is somehow cycling through a pattern: console explodes, with Sheppard right next to it, and he either lives or dies – the version where he lives is our reality, and the one where he dies is the alternative."

"So why are the alternative versions arriving here?" Keller wonders, aloud.

"That's what they're working on right now," answers the tech. "There's so much we're still discovering about how the gate technology works, and nobody understands it better than these three," he goes on, glancing over at the figures clustered around the tablet and console screen and the data streaming across both. "The bottom line is that we don't know what happened with the initial explosion. Maybe the set-up in the lab actually fused together parts of the gate controls with the matter bridge device, and when whatever-it-was overloaded, it fused the two systems."

Keller nods, grateful for an attempt at explanation, but this is an area of science that's completely outside her expertise. She takes a tentative step closer, hoping for both an insight into where they've got to, and for an opening in the discussion to update them on the Colonel's status.

"I'm telling you," Rodney splutters, "that this is the only explanation that makes sense!"

"You're probably right," admits Carter, "but there's no way of proving it, and we don't even know how the cycling of the device will effect the normal function of the stargate. We know from past experience that it's possible for the gate to remain open longer than 38 minutes in certain specific conditions, primarily if it's being kept open by an independent energy source at the initiating end of the wormhole."

"So," says Zalenka, "we just wait around to see if it stops of its own accord?" We still have, what, eighteen minutes to go, and if the pattern continues, that's two more bodies through the gate!"

"Wait," Keller interrupts, and the three scientists all turn round in surprise.

"You just said, 'bodies'. I thought if there's a 50/50 chance that the Colonel dies, then there's a chance that he could survive this! Isn't there?"

"We don't know for certain," Carter admits, holding up a hand to forestall her colleagues. "But what Dr McKay - what _we _- think is happening is that the overload, or the explosion, or both, creates a new alternative reality – one in which Colonel Sheppard dies. But through some interaction with the gate itself, the Colonel Sheppard from the alternative reality jumps back to ours."

"At that point," McKay interrupts, "the whole alternate reality ceases to exist – since Sheppard was the only variable that distinguishes it from our own reality."

Keller must have looked blank, because Zelenka has a go at explaining. "Think of it like a bubble. It's not bubble, but _think_ of it like bubble. Alternate reality only exists for the maybe one second between explosion and Sheppard coming through the gate. Is like a bubble, then 'pop' it's gone."

Realisation dawns, and Keller feels like she's swallowed a bucket of lead.

"So, this isn't lots of different realities here, is it?" she asks, already knowing the answer. "It's the same alternative, being created over and over again from scratch. It's the version where he dies. And he's going to do it over and over again."

Carter nods, looking down. "Even if the details are different, fundamentally it's the same pattern being played out. Again and again. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Jennifer, but even if more come through, and they will, you're not going to be able to do anything for them."

"My God," breathes Keller. "Does he know that?" she asks, glancing down at the stiffly seated figure on the bench to the side of the gateroom.

"He'll find out," replies McKay, darkly. "Is he OK?"

Keller gathers herself. "He's going to be fine. Superficial abrasions to the face and other exposed areas from the blast, a minor concussion, ribs that are certainly cracked, may be broken, but aren't causing any problems as long as he keeps still. And although his eardrums weren't perforated by the force of the explosion, it'll be a couple of days before his hearing's back to normal." She speaks quickly, glad to be able to say something good.

"But how's he doing, you know, how's he holding up?"

"I have no idea," Keller admits.

There's a moment of quiet as they all four take in the scene down on the gate room floor. Major Lorne has marshalled personnel into catching positions, and the security detail are poised around the edge of the room.

"So, do we tell them that there's no point in catching the next one to come through the gate?" Rodney asks, an edge to his voice that is more due to the stress of the situation than to his usual acerbic personality.

"They're not there for the benefit of the John Sheppard who's about to come through the gate," murmers Keller, glancing at her watch, then at the countdown that someone has helpfully set up on the gate status screen. "They're there for the sake of the John Sheppard sitting on that bench who has to watch himself dying over and over again, and who doesn't need to see his own face smashed into the step. Again."

Keller shudders, and turns to head down the stairs again. For the same reason, she knows where she needs to be in one minute when the next body comes through the gate.


	5. Chapter 5

Author note: I changed the second category from 'sci-fi' to 'angst' because I realised how disturbing this storyline is getting! And what a sick mind I apparently have. For those of you who like the 'comfort' bit of h/c, do not fear, we'll get to that, it just might take a while. And there'll be more 'h' first… Is the rating (T) ok, do you think?

CHAPTER 5

It's as if everyone knows they're waiting. The air feels somehow thick and soupy, and Sheppard takes a long drag on the oxygen mask, trying to clear his head. Every time he breathes his instinct is to close his eyes to internalise the pain and not let it show, but every time he closes his eyes, he sees his own blood, and his own blank, dead eyes, staring back at him. He takes as deep a breath on the oxygen as he can manage without stretching his abused ribcage, and swallows back nausea. He's grateful for the solid weight of Ronon's hand on his shoulder.

When it happens, the squelch of re-materialisation sounds unbelievably loud. There's chunks of charred metal flying through the gate, but the body that falls through seems somehow to rebound off the side of the gate, almost folding in half as it crumples to the floor only just beyond the event horizon. Needless to say, the marines that Sheppard had placed on catching duty have no chance of fulfilling their task, but they're quick to regroup, two of them escorting Dr Keller's petite figure across the increasingly cluttered gateroom floor.

Sheppard stands again, bracing his hand against the wall to counteract a brief wash of light-headedness. He blinks, and starts towards the huddled group of marines and medics by the gate. Less than half way, he's met by the doctor, who looks up at him, meeting his eyes as she tells him she's sorry. Again. Beyond her, in the corner, one of the younger troops is bent over, hands on his locked knees, failing to stop himself from losing his last meal. Major Lorne is between Sheppard and the body, trying to look in command, even has he holds the back of his hand across his mouth. Even from this distance, Sheppard can see his face is a mask of tension.

Keller hovers by the Colonel as he gingerly approaches Lorne.

"Report, Major," he says, allowing them both the refuge of formality.

"I'm sorry sir," Lorne responds, drawing himself up to stand straight. "We think that …he must have been thrown against the gate by the force of the explosion. Dr Keller reported displaced fractures in two of the cervical vertebrae. Sir" Lorne finds he can't maintain the eye contact, and inwardly curses his own weakness.

"It would have been very quick," Keller adds, but she's not sure if the Colonel is hearing her. Turning to him, she can see the muscles in his jaw working. However stoic he tries to be, there's no way that he'll be able to just compartmentalise this. She tentatively reaches out to touch his elbow, intending to lead him back to sit down, but he shakes her off, instead turning round to head straight for the steps that lead to the main command centre. Out of the corner of his eyes, he can see Carter, McKay and Zelenka push themselves back from the gate status console, as if they're bracing themselves for his arrival.

By the time he reaches them he's short of breath, and wishes for a moment that he'd brought his oxygen. But he keeps his gaze steady, and meets his commanding officer's eyes.

"So, what are we doing to fix this, Colonel?" he asks. He can't really tell what tone of voice he's using – the words echo hollowly in his head. He's hoping it sound strong, and in control.

Carter seems to sense that he needs the structure of command. They are both used to solving crises, and snatching solutions out of situations that seem hopelessly out of control, but it's not usually this personal. She respects that he needs objectivity, no matter how hard it is for them all to provide it.

"We're not sure we can," she answers, honestly. "We know now that the device on MX956K is cycling through a loop, repeating the explosion and causing a temporary 'bubble' alternate reality, and that the device is somehow fused to the gate, so that the version of you in that alternate reality travels to our reality at the moment of passing through the gate."

"So, how do we shut it down?" Sheppard persists. "Does this cycle have a natural end-point? Will it break the cycle when the gate shuts down after 38 minutes?" Of all of them, Sheppard is the one for whom the 38 minute limit is indelibly ingrained in his psyche.

"We hope so," replies McKay. "But, we can't be sure. It's also possible that if the device becomes more unstable, it could completely overload before that, and shut down sooner."

"Or," adds Zelenka, helpfully, "there could be a more catastrophic explosion, which leaks through the wormhole because we have no shield and destroys gateroom here in Atlantis."

Sheppard wants to punch something. But he's aching too much, and any loss of control now would be the end of his precarious grasp on the situation.

"So, we can't close the gate, we can't raise the shield, and we can't get back to the planet to shut it down from there because the gate's locked open." Sheppard summarises. "What can we do?"

"We've contacted the Daedalus," Carter replies. "She was due tomorrow anyway, but is only 16 hours away from MX956K, so they've changed course, and will see what they can do either from orbit or by sending a team down to investigate. That is, unless the situation is already resolved by then."

Sheppard takes a step closer to the screens monitoring the gate status. The countdown is brutal in its steady measurement of the inevitable. Nobody says anything for a moment as they watch the numbers count down together.

Sheppard shifts position, standing straighter, perhaps to relieve the pressure on his ribs. It's enugh to break the silence.

"We're now at 30 minutes since initial explosion," Zelenka offers, pointing at the screen. "We have three minutes until next cycle reaches critical."

"Three minutes," Sheppard mutters, almost to himself.

Three minutes feels like for ever, but is never long enough. Jennifer watches as Sheppard makes his way back down the stairs and makes straight for her, signalling with a one-handed gesture for Major Lorne to join them.

"Major, I want everyone as far back as possible from the gate," he begins, with no preamble. "There's a chance that the device on the planet could overload catastrophically, and we've no way of raising the shield, so forget about catching duty, just make sure nobody's in line with the gate, as we don't know what might come through."

"Yes, sir," says Lorne, and turns to go.

"Wait," sighs Sheppard, one hand on his XO's shoulder.

"Sir?"

"How're my men doing?" Sheppard asks, more quietly.

There's a hesitation, then, "They're doing their job, sir."

Sheppard nods to dismiss the Major, satisfied for now. He looks around, trying to memorise who's on duty, promising to himself that he'll try and see them all individually when this is all over.

"Doc, come over here, where you're out of the path of the gate," Sheppard tells Keller, guiding her right over to the side of the room, behind one of the bulkheads. "I've worked out by now that there's nothing you're going to be able to do about what comes through the gate, and if there is a catastrophic overload, I don't want any casualties this end if we can help it."

The gateroom is already clear of non-essential personnel, as the final seconds count down. The clock is at 33 minutes, and everyone's just waiting.

The explosion, when it comes, is ear-shattering.

Sheppard instinctively throws himself on top of the diminutive doctor as a protective shield, and even from their sheltered position behind the bulkhead, they're pelted with debris, some of it still burning. Alarms blare, and there's shouting, but it's all distant. All Sheppard is aware of is an excruciating pain in his chest, and an urgent need for oxygen. He's aware of movement around and beneath him, and finally manages to roll over onto his back, opening his eyes just a crack to see the frightened face of Jennifer Keller, hair all over the place, and a smear of blood on her cheek.

She seems to be getting further away, and it's like looking down the wrong end of a telescope as he tries to focus. The need for air is becoming overwhelming, and just as the greying edges of his vision start to close in, from somewhere, Keller manages to produce his oxygen mask again, holding it to his face, as she mouths something at him.

All at once, there's a searing pain in Sheppard's chest and he rolls to the side, curling in on himself, coughing and retching, and trying to draw in air with each hacking, stabbing breath. At the same moment it's as if someone's switched the sound back on, and the cacophony of alarms and shouting is back full force. Opening his eyes again, he sees Keller waving over one of the corpsmen, and placing his hand on the oxygen mask to hold it there, so that she can assess any other injuries.

There's smoke and dust everywhere, and big chunks of stuff all over the gateroom floor. From where he's lying, Sheppard can see almost everything, and he tries to take it all in, while concentrating most of his efforts on breathing without resurrecting the agonising cough. He's pretty sure that the ribs he'd cracked first time round are now broken, and whatever anyone says, he's not stupid enough to try and move just yet.

o0o

Keller's pretty sure the Colonel is stable for now, and she trusts the corpsman with him to spot any deterioration in the few minutes she needs to assess casualties and assign her medical team their tasks. She herself aches all over, and the Colonel's protective rugby tackle just now as reawakened the bruise on the side of her face from earlier, but she's still able to pick her way through the debris strewn all over the gateroom.

There's nobody immediately calling for her, but through the dust and smoke she's spotted Major Lorne, kneeling right in the middle of it all, bent over something that she can't quite make out. She stops short, just for a second, and then as nimbly as she can, makes her way over to crouch next to him.

"Oh God," she breathes, and then wishes she could take back the breath. The smell of burnt flesh is something you never forget. The face is recognisable, but barely. There's nowhere on the neck that's undamaged enough to check for a pulse, so she blindly seeks out a wrist, even though she knows there won't be anything to feel.

"He was alive," Lorne says, quietly, then more loudly, "He was alive for a whole goddamn minute!" The major punches the floor with bruising force, and Keller takes his hand in hers, straightening out the clenched fingers.

"I can't watch this happen again," he admits, not knowing if he's talking to himself or to Keller, He finds himself blinking repeatedly and pretending that it's the smoke making his eyes sting.

It's at that moment that Keller looks past Lorne, and lets out a tiny gasp of air, struggling to her feet. Reacting quickly, Lorne stands and turns, and lets out the breath he'd been holding. The gateroom is no longer bathed in the rippling light of the event horizon. The gate has disengaged.

There's a flood of relief so profound that Keller's legs give way and she finds herself sitting in a heap back in the middle of the floor. She lets out a shaky laugh, and then swipes at her face, that's suddenly damp.

Major Lorne heaves her back to her feet, and she grabs his arm. "It's over, isn't it? Please tell me it's over?"


	6. Chapter 6

_Author note: I thought this story would be 6 chapters in total, but it's actually not done yet – there'll be another chapter after this. Just so you know it's not the end yet!_

CHAPTER 6

Carter drags herself up, coughing, and leans on the balcony rail, surveying the scene. The gateroom looks like a war zone. Sunlight filters through the haze of smoke and dust picking out the carnage in exquisite detail. Even upstairs in the command centre, there are bits of charred stone and metal from the force of the blast, though a quick glance reassures her that there are no serious injuries. But the best bit is that there's no shimmer from the gate. Just at the moment she doesn't even care if the gate's completely offline, as long as it's no longer active.

McKay is already staggering to his feet, using the gate control panel as a crutch.

"It's over," he confirms, relief evident in the way his voice cracks.

"Thank God for that," Carter mutters to herself, then to the scientist, "I want status reports for the gate, and all primary systems, soon as you can. Get Zelenka to help."

"Already on it," McKay replies without turning round, and it says something about the situation that he doesn't voice even one complaint.

Carter takes a deep breath and pushes herself to stand straight before heading down the stairs to check the status of the personnel there. The gateroom had been largely cleared as a precaution, but the blast that shut down the gate seems to have packed much more of a punch than any of the previous ones. She'll be surprised if there are no further casualties.

The pale sunlight suddenly lights up a huddled tableau in the centre of the room: Major Lorne, Dr Keller, and on the floor, what Carter knows must be the final duplicate. The body looks like it might be still smoking. But there's nothing she can do there just at the moment.

Movement in her peripheral vision makes her turn her head, and just behind one of the bulkheads she can see one of the corspmen attending to Sheppard – _our_ Sheppard, her mind clarifies. He doesn't look good, and she jogs over, concerned, careful of the mess of rubble on the floor.

Kneeling down, she has a good look at her second in command. Sheppard's eyes are disconcertingly unfocused, his head lolling slightly, and his breathing seems fast and shallow, even with the mask on.

"The blast was stronger than we thought, Ma'am," the corpsman explains, as he reaches over to the Colonel's neck and checks the pulse rate against his watch. "The Doc said he shielded her from the worst of it, but it's possible that he's damaged his ribs again doing so, and he may have hit his head, too."

Carter nods. "Is he stable?"

"His pulse is a little high – around 120 – if you can keep hold of the mask for me, I'll check his BP."

Carter shifts position to give the corpsman room as he expertly wraps the man's arm in the blood pressure cuff and pumps the balloon.

"I don't like this," he says, shaking his head. "Pulse is high, but BP is too low for me. I'm wondering whether one of those ribs has nicked something internally." He releases the pressure in the cuff, and turns to stand, calling Keller over. She's there in an instant, and it takes her only a moment to take in the Colonel's worsening condition.

"Get him on a gurney, right now, and get him to the infirmary."

o0o

For Sheppard, the aftermath of the final explosion is a confusion of noise and pain. There's a part at the back of his mind somewhere that wants to get up and help, to take command, and bring some order, and his heart is clamouring with anxious energy, but he can't make his body obey, and his vision keeps pulsing in and out. He tries to push himself up, but his limbs feel strangely weak, and the corpsman in front of him – _where did Keller go?_ – is keeping him immobile with a heavy hand on his shoulder. He takes greedy gulps of oxygen through the mask, but it's like someone's stabbing him in the lower left hand side of his ribcage, and he finds himself panting for breath and struggling against the dizziness that threatens to overwhelm him.

It's also cold, suddenly. He shivers, and must have zoned out for a minute, because when he opens his eyes he can see Carter, talking to the corpsman. He tries to say something, ask for a status report, but can't quite seem to co-ordinate his mouth with his brain. And it really is getting cold.

Blinking again, Keller's somehow there, and suddenly among the background noise there are words like 'infirmary', 'hypovolemic shock' and 'splenic rupture'. Being lifted onto the gurney is agony, and he closes his eyes at the spinning ceiling, willing himself not to pass out or vomit.

He must have blacked out again, because the next thing he knows, the ceiling's changed. He's in the infirmary, and Keller is there again, asking him something. He blinks, and shivers. There's a pinch on the back of his hand, and a warmth starts to spread half-heartedly through his veins.

Somewhere in the distance, there are pillows being wedged under his legs, and things get slightly clearer for a moment.

"Colonel Sheppard, can you hear me?" Keller asks, eyes wide with concern. Sheppard gets the feeling this isn't the first time she's tried to get his attention.

"Doc," he slurs. "M'cold."

"Yes, I know," she says, placing a reassuring hand on his. "You're a little bit shocky, but we'll sort that out. We think you may have a little bit of internal bleeding, from a broken rib, so I have you on an IV while we get the portable scanner."

She smiles briefly, and Sheppard tries to smile back, but coughs instead, scrunching his eyes against the pain, and swallowing back bile.

"I'll be able to give you something in a minute, Colonel. Hang in there."

Sheppard drifts during the scan, lost in a long moment of pain and careful breathing and spinning ceiling tiles. At one point there's a blinding stab of pain in his left side, that leaves him breathless and shaking again. By the time Keller's done, he's still shivering, but at some point someone's covered him with a warm blanket, and the IV seems to be doing its work.

Time seems to pass, and there's a gentle shake to his shoulder. Turning his head takes more effort than it should. Keller's drawn a stool up beside the bed, and he tries his best to focus on her face.

"How are you feeling?" she asks.

"You tell me," he mumbles, through the mask, reaching up to try and lower it.

Keller gently pushes his hand back down, with a small smile.

"You need that for a while longer, I'm afraid, and I can hear you just fine even with it on. They teach you that in med school."

"So, how'm I doing?" he whispers, disappointed by the weakness of his own voice.

Keller purses her lips. "Surprisingly well. The scanner shows two broken ribs. The bottom one had shifted enough just to nick the spleen. But it's a slow bleed, and I'm hopeful that we can treat it without surgery. The IV should help replace some of your blood volume, get your BP up so that you feel a bit better. I've got some matched blood on standby if we need it."

"Thanks, Doc," Sheppard breathes. He knows he does better with more information, not less.

"I just want to do another set of neuro checks, then I'll put a little something in your IV so you can rest more comfortably."

Sheppard braces himself for the penlight, and the rest, and stays alert long enough for Keller to seem satisfied. When she returns with a syringe of the 'good drugs', ready to inject into the IV port, he stops her with a clumsy raised hand.

"Doc, any chance I can see Colonel Carter and Doctor McKay before you give me that?

He can see that Keller's not happy. She chews her lip. "Part of the point of this is that I need you to stay still, and calm," she points out. "The tear in your spleen is only small, but it will not heal if you move about. I really don't want to have to repair it surgically."

"Just five minutes, please," Sheppard asks. Even though she's only been CMO for a relatively short while, Keller has already found that Colonel Sheppard rests better if he's kept in the loop. And she's not going to let him out of her sight in any case, no matter who comes to visit him.

"Alright," she sighs. "But it's two minutes." She clicks her earpiece to summon Carter and McKay, grabbing another couple of stools.

They must have been already on their way, because Keller only just has time to switch Sheppard's oxygen mask for a nasal cannula by the time they're sitting down at the bedside. They're both covered in dust, and looking exhausted. It's hard to believe that this entire ordeal has only taken a little over an hour.

"How's he doing?" Carter asks.

"I'm good," Sheppard mumbles, pointedly. He needs to be taking part, needs to be conscious, needs not to be like one of the duplicate bodies.

"He's stable for the moment," Keller confirms, "but I need to keep an eye on his BP, as there's a slow bleed from the spleen that I'm really hoping will resolve itself." Carter raises her eyebrows, not sure that that sounds like good news.

"So, what's our status?" Sheppard asks, taking a long draw on the oxygen and trying hard to hide his wince at the pull on his ribs.

McKay answers first. "The gate's offline, but amazingly it's only one of the power relays that's overloaded. Should be fixable in a few hours."

Sheppard nods, and looks to Carter. "Casualties?"

"Nothing serious, apart from you," she reassures him. "There's a handful in here with minor cuts and abrasions, but we have everyone accounted for. " She knows how important it is for him to know his men are alright, because she feels exactly the same way.

Sheppard closes his eyes in relief, sucking in more O2 from the cannula.

"The Daedalus is still heading to MX956K before they come here, just to check the situation there," offers McKay, "but we think the force of the explosion must have neutralised the remaining parts of the device, rendering it inert."

"Tell 'em to be careful," he mutters, wincing.

"We will. And now we should let you rest," says Carter, standing up to leave. "We'll do a proper debrief on this later".

"That would be tomorrow," Keller states, and her tone of voice makes it pretty clear that she wants her patient left undisturbed.

Sheppard wants to ask the rest of his questions, but he's rapidly reaching the end of his pain tolerance, and when Keller politely but firmly ushers his visitors out, he finds himself looking forward to good drugs. When Keller makes one last check on his blood pressure and pulse rate, then injects his IV port, he thinks that the oblivion working its way through his system is probably the best feeling in the world.


	7. Chapter 7

_Author note: This isn't the last chapter either. The infirmary bit is taking longer than I thought, and there's still more to do in that regard. So, it's a little longer than the previous chapters, and a little different, but I hope it's still enjoyable. If you're liking the story enough to read it, please do consider leaving a review. Thanks!_

CHAPTER 7

Sheppard drifts. He still feels weak, and there's still pain in his ribcage, especially low on the left hand side, but it's all a bit distant now. He struggles to keep his eyes open as much as he can. Even through the drug-induced fog, when he closes his eyes he is visited by images of blood and death, with a clarity that's in sharp contrast to the fuzzy feeling of the real world around him. It's unpleasantly like the out-of-body feeling he experienced when he was being revived after the Iratus Bug incident. He doesn't want to see himself dead. Ever again.

He shifts, uncomfortably, trying to keep awake even as his body demands rest. Dimly, he's aware of the stead beeping next to his bed picking up the pace a little. Keller is quick on the uptake, and is beside him in an instant.

"Don't you have any other patients," he slurs, trying for humour.

"Not right now," she replies, and now he looks properly, he notices something.

"What happened to your face?" he asks, concerned. There's a ripening shadow of a bruise on her cheekbone.

She lifts a hand to her cheek in surprise. "It's nothing. Happened early on. Face meets floor. You know."

Sheppard's brow furrows for a moment, and then works out when it would be. He'd forgotten that the first of the duplicates had knocked her to the ground. And he'd never thought to ask her if she was OK.

"Should get some ice on that," he says, finally, and she actually laughs.

"I'm good. But thank you. What I really should do is properly sort out the cuts and whatnot on your face, Colonel. It'll sting a fair bit, so I can do it while you're still a little out of it."

Sheppard looks back, thinking. She looks like hell.

"You look like hell, Doc. Why don't you get a nurse to do that, and get some rest?"

"Because… " she hesitates, and then something seems to shift subtly in her body language. "Because today I watched you die, Colonel,' she says, voice wavering with tears that she's valiantly trying to quash. "I watched you die four times and I couldn't do a damned thing about it. And here you are, alive, and …I guess I want to keep hold of that."

Sheppard looks at her again, for a long moment, trying to make his foggy brain come up with the right thing to say.

"Crap, this is messed up, isn't it?" he finally says.

She nods, and sniffs, and then apologises, turning away in embarrassment.

"Wait. Doc." He owes this to her. "If it helps then, yeah, it would be good to sort out this." A hand gestures clumsily at his face.

She turns back, and there's a genuine smile in there somewhere.

"I'll be a moment," she says, and he can hear her gathering the supplies she'll need. He blinks, owlishly, as she returns, snapping on another fresh pair of gloves. There's a momentary flashback to her hands covered in his blood, and he can feel his heart pick up, and then he's back in the present.

She focuses on his face, all professional concentration, occasionally murmuring softly, telling him what she's doing. There's some discomfort, especially when she's pulling the tiny bits of debris from the deeper cuts, and washing them out with saline. But she's right, he's a little too out of it to really feel it as pain. He finds himself staring back at her face through half-lidded eyes, strangely fascinated by the darkening bruise across her cheek. The human body is a fragile thing.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, in response to his own thoughts, and she quirks and eyebrow at him, but says nothing.

Keller finishes by putting tiny, neat butterfly stitches into a longer cut on his jawline, and then clears away the used dressings and paraphernalia, and the now-red-flecked gloves. He watches her, blinking slowly. The good drugs are wearing off, and the infirmary seems more real, more able to balance out the brutal clarity of the images in his mind.

Keller looks at him again, and then at the beeping machines by the bedside.

"Do you need top-up to take the edge off the pain?" she asks, gesturing at the IV.

He moistens his lips. "In a bit," he concedes. He wants the clarity to last, but his body is exhausted, and with the returning clarity comes the pain and tension of his injuries.

She puts the call button in his hand, giving him a last, meaningful look, and eventually turns away to check on the rest of the infirmary. He follows her with his eyes, drinking in the reality of everything, until the third time she comes back to check on him and offer him more painkillers. By now he's exhausted, and finding it harder and harder to compartmentalise the stabbing pain in his side and at the same time keep his eyes open to stave off the flashbacks.

"You know you need to rest, Colonel," says Keller, sitting down beside the bed again. "I've been watching you for the last two hours, and you've hardly closed your eyes."

Sheppard looks away. He's on the edge of his tolerance, and he's almost desperate enough to ask for something that will knock him out so he can't dream.

"I wish Kate were still here," Keller says, finally. "I think we'll all need someone to talk to about what's happened."

It's an invitation to share something of what he's feeling, but he's not sure how to put it into words. _'I'm afraid to go to sleep in case I don't wake up'_ is about the closest he can come up with, but there's no way he'll admit to that. Not to anyone. He can feel his own heartbeat thudding in his chest, and he knows it's a little fast. The thought of sleep, on top of the pain, is pushing his anxiety levels up, and Keller's not oblivious to the effect it's having on his body.

"Colonel, if you won't relax on your own, I can give you something. I mean, something stronger," she clarifies, with a glance at the numbers on the heart monitor. "I can make it a 'Doctor's order' if that's easier?"

Somehow she knows. She pauses for a moment, then takes his silence as consent, and preps a syringe. The tug on IV port on his hand is followed swiftly by merciful oblivion.

Keller takes much longer than she actually needs to check all his vitals and write up the medication on his chart. It's going to be a long night for her.

o0o

Rodney McKay sips his sixth - or is it seventh – scalding hot cup of coffee. He has been working on the gate all night with what would even for him count as frenzied intensity. Zelenka crashed out about an hour ago. McKay looks over at him, sprawled across one of the inactive consoles, glasses askew, and hair still full of dust. There are security and technical personnel on duty, as there always are, but when he's aware of them at all they seem to be getting on with the task of clearing up the rubble, dust and debris from the gateroom floor.

The poor person trying to clean up the bottom steps is scrubbing at something. It's been going on for the last half hour. The sound is irritating, and Rodney is about to shout at her to stop when he remembers what is that she's trying clean up. In his mind there's a sudden clear picture of Sheppard's still form, and the growing puddle of red around him.

Abruptly, Rodney snaps back to the present and deliberately unclenches his hands. A clattering sound and a sudden awareness of pain makes him glance down, and he stares in fascination at the blood slowly welling up from a cut in the palm of his hand, and dripping down on the discarded cutting tool that he must have been holding when he had his flashback.

Deliberately, he bends to pick it up, and sways every so slightly as he puts it on the console. Without thinking, he cradles his injured hand in the other, and sets of in a purposeful daze to the infirmary.

He doesn't really feel anything in his hand, and by the time Jennifer greets him wearily at the infirmary door, he's quite forgotten what he came here for.

"Um, how's Colonel Sheppard?" he asks, vaguely?

"Rodney?" Keller questions, guiding him by the arm to sit down on the nearest chair. He looks up and her and blinks.

"What?"

"The Colonel's fine. He's resting. Can I have a look at that?" She gently takes his hand in hers, and unfolds the fingers. Rodney looks down in surprise.

"I …um dropped my cutting tool," he explains.

"Right," Jennifer says, slowly. "Can you straighten your fingers for me?" He does so, wincing, and with the pain, reality seems to come into clearer focus.

"Ow," he says, a bit more of his characteristic whine creeping in. Keller smiles.

"What? Why are you laughing?"

"Nothing. Sorry," she says, still smiling. "It doesn't look deep, but I'll need to clean and stitch it." She potters about, gathering equipment. "What were you working on?"

"The Gate," Rodney answers, wondering why that matters.

"OK, well we'd better start a course of antibiotics, too, then,"

"I mean, the gate control console, not the actual gate," he clarifies, glancing at the syringe in her hand.

"Even so," she smiles, reading his mind. "And anyway, this is lidocaine. Local anaesthetic. I thought you might appreciate it when I stitch up your hand."

Rodney looks away when she warns him he'll feel a slight pinch, and stays looking away, and talking nervously to himself about all the things that were wrong with the gate, as she cleans away the blood, checks the wound again, and adds a neat little row of stitches.

"You can look now," she says, not unkindly, as she completes her work with a bandage that covers most of his hand and wrist.

"Um, thanks," he says, quickly, and moves to leave.

"Not so fast," Keller warns. "While you're here I want to check you out properly. Today was at least as eventful as one of your off world missions, and anyway I still owe you post-mission check from earlier."

Rodney sits back, secretly relieved. His hand is throbbing now, the lidocaine definitely wearing off, and a jittery sense of unwellness is starting to make itself known. As always, his mind races to worst case scenarios.

Keller is taking his BP and pulse. She's frowning, so he glances over at the numbers.

"So, how much coffee have you drunk tonight?" She asks, pointedly. She shakes her head. "Your blood pressure's too high, and your heart rate too. I know it's probably just caffeine, but I'd like to take some bloods and keep you here a while, just to be sure." She looks disapproving all the way through the process of taking the blood sample, but then softens as she tapes the pad of gauze over the puncture mark. "Why don't you go over and take the bed next to the Colonel's. He's been out for a while, and when he wakes up I know he'll appreciate a friendly face."

She settles him in the bed, and as she heads back to her office she feels easier knowing that the Colonel won't be alone when he awakes.

Keller won't go to her quarters tonight, but she's willing to risk a catnap sitting in her office chair.

She's woken by a bleeping of alarms, and Rodney's frantic shouting. She lurches to her feet and is at the Colonel's bedside in minutes.

Rodney's out of bed, using his good hand to steady Sheppard by the shoulder and is trying to push the call button with his bandaged hand. The Colonel himself is white as a sheet, and breathing hard, his body rigid with tension and his eyes staring at nothing.

The leads to the heart monitor have got disconnected, and she quickly reconnects them, grimacing at the too-quick heart rate on the screen. His skin is cold and clammy as she brushes against it. Fearing the worst, she quickly pulls down the blanket and sheet and palpates the left side of Sheppard's lower chest. There's still no sign of a major bleed, and she lets out the breath she's been holding. But still, he's shocky again, and she tries to reassure him that everything's OK as she puts the pillows back under his legs to raise them and tucks the blanket in to warm him up, and turns up the oxygen just a touch. Rodney's hovering, so she sends him to find a nurse who can bring the portable scanner again. She'll do a scan, just to be sure, but she think she has a fair idea of what the problem is.

"Colonel," she says, taking his hand in hers and tilting his face gently towards her. "Look at me. Can you hear me?" She speaks clearly and calmly, and is eventually rewarded by a blink, and her hand being gripped in return.

"Welcome back," she smiles, and keeps holding his hand as she sits down on the stool she left by the bed earlier. A quick glance at the monitor shows that his heart rate, while still high, is no longer dangerous, and there's the tiniest bit of colour back in his skin.

"Crap," he mutters, eventually, swallowing convulsively, and turning his face away. He snatches his hand away to rub at his gritty eyes. "What the hell was that about?"

"Well, I'm getting the scanner back to be sure you don't have a problem with the spleen starting to bleed again," Keller says, "but I'm pretty sure that what you just experienced was a night terror."

He turns back to look at her. "Like what little kids get," he says, flatly. "Great."

"It's actually a very normal response to a traumatic event," Keller points out, "and I'm afraid that Night Terrors can go hand in hand with the sort of flashback that I guess was making you reluctant to close your eyes in the first place."

When he says nothing in response she knows she's right.

"Look, Colonel," she begins, not knowing how to reassure him. "What happened was… well, I can't even begin to imagine what it must have been like for you. So it's OK if you need a bit of help coming to terms with it." She sighs, wondering whether to say what she'd planned to say. "I know I'm not Kate, and nobody can replace her, but, well, I'm here if you want to talk. About it. Or anything."

Sheppard takes a long sniff of the oxygen from the cannula and is saved from having to reply by the arrival of the portable scanner. It only takes moments to confirm that the displaced rib is still where it should be, and that the damaged spleen is also looking good. Keller's relived, although she's aware that the Colonel would probably rather go into shock from internal bleeding than from a panic attack.

She lets Rodney stay long enough to see that his friend is recovered, and then sends him on his way on the pretext that he can report to Colonel Carter and to the rest of Sheppard's team how he's doing. It's 6am by now, and she's slightly surprised that they're not beating down the door of the infirmary to sit with him. Perhaps they just don't know what to say.

A quick call to the kitchen is in order – both she and her most regular patient could do with some carbohydrate. And although she's no Rodney McKay, she could murder a decent cup of coffee.


	8. Chapter 8

_Author note: This is the last main chapter. There is also a short epilogue, which I will post at the same time, ffn permitting! I hope you're all enjoyed the ride, and a big thank you to everyone who has taken the time to write a review. Knowing that people have enjoyed sharing the products of my twisted mind makes it all worthwhile. _

CHAPTER 8

A shadow in Sheppard's peripheral vision makes him turn, clamping down on his heightened sense of danger. Hyperawareness was another thing that Keller had warned him about in the early hours, and he clenches his hands in the bunched blankets to ground himself.

The shadow morphs into Ronon.

"Hey, Sheppard," says the tall Satedan, folding himself into the visitor's chair beside the Colonel's bed.

"Hey yourself," replies Sheppard half-heartedly. He's tired, and achy, and jittery, and confused, and while he's not sure he wants to be alone, he's also not sure if he's really up to visitors either.

"You alright?" Ronon asks, finally, and when Sheppard doesn't answer or look back at him, he raises one of his long legs to poke Sheppard's foot with his own.

"I died, like, four times yesterday," Sheppard deadpans, shifting uncomfortably in the bed. "Gimme a break, big guy."

"But you didn't die, Sheppard," Ronon says, simply, leaning forward in the chair and eyeballing the Colonel. "You're a soldier. Every day might be the day you die, and all this did was show you what that looks like. But it wasn't this time. Not for you." He sits back again.

For Ronon, this is a pretty long speech, and Sheppard takes his time thinking about it. Risking life is what he does, day in, day out, but the reality of that risk isn't usually brought home to him in quite such appallingly graphic detail.

The two soldiers sit for a bit, neither feeling the need to speak. Eventually Ronon breaks the silence.

"You gonna eat the rest of that, or can I have it?" he gestures at the half finished breakfast on the side table.

Sheppard laughs until his side hurts so much he has to ask Keller for another shot of morphine. She chases Ronon out of the infirmary, but secretly she feels some of the bucket of lead she seems to have swallowed yesterday begin to disappear.

o0o

Major Lorne is the next one to visit, just before lunch.

He sidles into the infirmary, trying to pretend that it doesn't matter if Dr Keller sees him. He's not slept – he tried, and couldn't shake the restless anxiety, so now he feels rough as a… well, pretty rough, and still pretty raw. He's mortified at having almost broken down in front of the doctor yesterday, even though the circumstances were admittedly traumatic.

He needn't have worried. As he creeps past her office he sees her slumped at her desk, a half-drunk cup of coffee right next to her elbow. Silently, he tips the dregs down the sink and replaces the mug further from the edge of the desk.

As he turns towards the Colonel, he sees that his CO has been watching the whole mime act, albeit through heavily lidded eyes. Surprisingly there's nobody sitting with him – usually when he's injured the whole team camps out in the infirmary. But then again, this is different. _Maybe they feel just as awkward as I do right now._

As his XO approaches, Sheppard eyes him critically. The major has changed his uniform for a clean one, but he hasn't shaved this morning and while this doesn't bother Sheppard from a discipline point of view, it rings the tiniest of alarm bells.

"Sir," says Lorne, standing stiffly beside the bed.

"Have a seat, Major," Sheppard drawls, wondering how best to put the man at ease, especially when he himself is still far from relaxed (despite the lingering fuzziness of the breakfast laughter and morphine).

"So, how's my city?" he asks, suddenly finding that he really does want a sit rep.

"We're good, sir," Lorne is pleased to report. "Everything's pretty much cleaned up in the gate room and command centre, and McKay thinks the gate will be back online by this evening.

"And the teams still stranded offworld?"

"Just Teldy's, sir, and the Daedalus has contacted them. They're all fine."

"That's good." Sheppard nods. There's an awkward pause.

"How are you doing, sir," Lorne blurts out.

Sheppard lets his eyes wander lazily over the IV, the heart monitor, pulse-ox, and oxygen cannula.

"You know, been better. Beats being dead, though."

He inwardly curses himself at this experiment in dark humour. His XO doesn't need this right now, and even from here he can see the man tense, and look away. The last day has been pretty hard on everyone.

"Look, Major, I'm pretty banged up, and Keller's going to keep me in a while. But I'm OK. Really. And until I'm up and about again, I know the city's in safe hands. Just don't let Colonel Caldwell boss you around while I'm laid up, OK?"

"Yes sir," Lorne replies, with a genuine smile.

"Seriously, Major, …Evan. Go get yourself cleaned up. Get a decent meal inside you, and then sleep for the rest of the day. I'll make it an order if you like."

"Thank you, sir. And you know, get well soon."

Sheppard gives a lazy mock salute, and Lorne replies in kind.

Just as the Major is getting up to leave, Teyla arrives, with two trays of food. Sheppard had lost track of the time, but absently wonders whether they have some kind of rota organised, otherwise the timing of Teyla's arrival is just spooky.

"The nurse says you may have soup," Teyla tells him, by way of greeting.

"Great," says Sheppard, with mock enthusiasm. "Oatmeal for breakfast, and soup for lunch!"

"It is just until you are stronger," Teyla placates him, placing the bowl in the crook of his arm where he can reach it more easily, and loading a spoon with the thick broth. As he puts the spoon in his mouth and catches Teyla's eye, he suddenly finds himself thinking that she would be a wonderful mother one day. The oddity and inappropriateness of the thought almost makes him choke on his soup and he drops the spoon with a clatter, flapping his hand in frustration as he swallows and tries not to breathe at the same time, and curses the pain in his side.

Teyla, for her part, looks mystified, but once she is certain that her friend is not actually in distress, she continues to help him until most of the soup is finished, and Sheppard feels pleasantly full.

"So…" Sheppard starts.

"It is very good to see you looking …well." Teyla says, carefully.

_Seeing me looking not-dead_, Sheppard's mind helpfully fills in, but he manages not to say it aloud.

"Yeah, I'm good,' he says instead. "I'll be grounded for a while, though, I reckon. I'm supposed to be keeping still. Letting my insides heal properly."

Teyla raises an eyebrow. She knows him well enough to know that although keeping still is easy enough for him today, it will not be long before boredom and impatience will make him a most difficult patient.

They talk some more, and Sheppard finds himself tiring, yet reluctatnt to sleep. Closing his eyes will bring unwelcome memories.

Teyla sits in the chair, poised like a dancer, but her hands twist awkwardly in her lap, and he has the feeling that there's something she's not saying.

"What is it, Teyla?"

"Colonel, I know it is very soon to be thinking of such things," she begins, tentatively, "but I have been wondering about how we might best… remember the sacrifice of … your duplicates, from the parallel worlds."

Sheppard feels himself tense, and clenches his jaw against the shudder. He drags deeply on the nasal cannula, forcing himself not to see the visions of his other selves.

"I'm sorry," says Teyla, quickly, seeing his distress. "It is too soon."

Crap. Even in his own state of near panic, he can see she's upset.

"Teyla, wait," he grinds out. "Please." He wills himself to head off the panic attack before it can take hold.

Teyla looks uncertain. "Should I call Dr Keller?"

"No," Sheppard gasps. He can manage this himself. _Breathe. In. Out._ He concentrates on the weight of the blanket, the sound of the beeping monitor, the feel of the bunched fabric in his fist, the pull of the IV needle in the back of his hand, the antiseptic smell….. all these things can ground him in reality, the reality in which he is still very much alive.

He sucks in another lungful of oxygen and reaches out a hand for the cup of water on the side table.

He can see his hand shaking, and curses inwardly, but Teyla is careful and respectful as she guides the cup to his hand, and helps him sip, before replacing it on the side table.

"You were saying?" Sheppard offers, as soon as his voice is steady, knowing that his attempt at a light touch will fall a little flat, but trying anyway.

"If you are sure?" she hesitates again, and he nods in encouragement, bunching the blanket again in his fist, just in case.

"Colonel, I have seen what your people do to remember your dead." She is thinking of Carson. "And I know what my own people do, when we are able to give time to mourning. But this situation is … different. Colonel Carter believes that it would not be appropriate to send the bodies back to earth…" _Breathe, Sheppard, breathe, dammit_ "…but it is true that you – all of the duplicates of you – gave your lives yesterday. You were the last through the gate when we left the planet, and because of that, you risked your life. In those parallel worlds – fleeting though they were – you _gave_ your life. That should be honoured."

Sheppard blinks and looks away for a moment. He honestly hadn't given much thought to whether they would have a _funeral_ for his duplicates. The idea is honestly a bit too …weird. He's never really given much thought even to his own funeral. Before coming to Atlantis, he'd not been in a state to expect a lot of people to miss him, but now? Things were different. These people – Ronon, Teyla, McKay, and the rest – are pretty much his family. There's suddenly a lump in his throat and he tries to swallow around it. The realisation that he's surrounded by people who would really, really miss him hits him and almost takes his breath away.

He takes another deep drag from the cannula, and lets it out slowly.

"Colonel?" Teyla's eyes are wide with concern.

"I'm good," he murmurs, out of habit. "Sorry, keep losing the thread here. What're you thinking, exactly?"

"I have been speaking with Colonel Carter, and we would like to hold a …ceremony, of sorts, on the planet where all this started. So it is far from Altantis and will not cloud your life with the memories of those who died." She smiles. "Outside the ruin of the building it's quite beautiful, Colonel

Caldwell tells me. We could bury the bodies there, but the ceremony would be a celebration of the life that we have, the moments that we each have now, not a dwelling on what might have been."

Her smile falters just a little, and while Sheppard's not fooled by her deliberately calm demeanor, he just doesn't know what to say.

"There is no need to answer now, Colonel," she reassures him. "But please, think about it. I feel there are many people who would find their burden lifted by such a gesture, and the Daedalus could take us there and back inside a day."

She saves him from the need to reply, simply bending to touch her forehead to his, then takes her leave.

o0o

A week later, he's bored out of his mind in the infirmary, and is driving Keller out of her mind, too.

She's finally happy to release him to his quarters, provided he does nothing more strenuous than sit, lie on his bed, and walk slowly as far as the mess hall, and that he comes back every morning and evening for a check up. He's happy to make any promise just to get out of the place. Although the night terrors have mostly gone, and the flashbacks are less frequent, he's still jumpy, and wants to be able to breathe in the sea spray, and get back to what passes for normal life.

The memorial service (or whatever Teyla's ceremony is going to be called - he's avoided reading any of the memos) iis scheduled for the following day. The Daedalus should have left for earth by now, but they've invented a pretext to stick around long enough to play taxi for those who will be attending: Sheppard himself, Carter, McKay, Zelenka, Keller, Lorne and all those who were on duty at the time of what people have started to call 'the incident' and other equally bland euphemisms. Mostly people don't talk to him about it, and that's fine by him. When he goes to the mess hall for the first time, he's acutely aware of the heads turning, and then turning back just as quickly. _It'ss not their fault_, he tells himself. It's not every day that you see a friend and colleague die horribly in four different ways, and then have to work with them and interact with them socially afterwards.

Sheppard still doesn't know what to think, or feel , about it all. One minute it all seems distant – just another mission gone wrong to add to his collection – and the next he's gulping in air, and hanging onto the nearest handrail with a white-knuckled grip. He hopes that this will pass. And it is already better and easier than it was. Keller sometimes talks a bit when he goes for his twice-daily check-up. And sometimes he talks to her, too. Maybe it helps, he's not sure. Sometimes it's just good to stand on his favourite balcony – the one he and Elizabeth shared – and breathe.


	9. Epiogue

EPILOGUE

Silently, Sheppard accepts the single flower that Teyla hands him. He rolls the stem between his fingers as he stands at the graveside with his friends – with the people who are as close to his family as it's possible to be. He gives a long look at the coffins, deep in the dark grey-brown earth. These versions of himself lived for just the briefest moment of time. Shadows of himself, of what might have been, of what one day would probably come to pass, in one form or another. He is a soldier, after all.

He knows that there are is no parallel Teyla, or Ronon, or McKay, or Keller, or Carter, to mourn them. He's glad of it, and is suddenly overcome with gratitude for the fact that he himself – the living breathing version of John Sheppard, the one who survived – is surrounded by such formidable companionship.

He lets the flower fall into the grave, and somehow it is as if he has let go of a much heavier burden.

Sometimes, just sometimes, no matter how screwed up things seem, you find in it all the proof that you really are living in the best of all possible worlds.


End file.
